


Technicolour teacups

by Anarchyinplasma



Series: Ozglyn - Slices of Eternity. [36]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Extra fluff, F/M, Not quite almost entirely the usual, Short, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7453387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyinplasma/pseuds/Anarchyinplasma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glynda sees colours. So does Oz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Technicolour teacups

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. Just a note. In this AU, colour comes from touching your soulmates skin for the first time.

Glynda could remember with perfect clarity the day she finally gained her colour. She had met Oz in her high school geography class, sitting at his table after arriving late from a flute lesson. They had talked throughout the group project for the class; and afterwards decided to take a break and head into the nearby town for lunch.

She still remembered the moment he had handed her the tea she'd ordered, fingers brushing hers as he passed her the cheap order-to-go cup. Colour had come to her world in that moment, swirling out from his brown eyes and lighting up the street, illuminating the green of his jacket and the graying hair, the shocked expression on his face as he saw the exact same thing.

Both their mouths hang open and they blink rapidly for a few seconds, before they quietly whisper in unison.  
“Oh my god it's you.” Oz's mouth splits into a wide grin as he enfolds her into his arms, rest of the world forgotten. Glynda reciprocates thoroughly, taking in his unique scent as she launches herself towards him and throws her arms around him.

The aroma of faint mechanical oil and old musty books wraps a comforting blanket around her senses, along with the same small accents she'd associate only with old dog-eared playing cards.

Oz for his part experiences the same comforting sensation of everything in his life slotting perfectly into place like the backplate of a watch, sealing closed the inner mechanisms. Glynda wraps around his every sense, the warmth of her in his arms shuts out the cold of the winter morning with nary a thought spared to its sudden absence, she smells like a bookshop, warm, comforting and crisp, like new paper.

He presses his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss, and they stay locked in that moment for several more seconds until they realise they're in there middle of a high-street, it's freezing cold, and their tea is rapidly reaching the same temperature as the snow-covered pavement.


End file.
